Progenitor's Burden

A branch snapped.

Sinclair whipped his head around.

Oh. Shit.

At the tree line, a nine-foot-tall monstrosity stood up from where it had previously sat motionless. It had muscled shoulders and a large extended belly. Raising its plate-sized eyes in his general direction, the beast stepped forwards into a patch of moonlight, sniffing at the air. Despite not knowing what on earth the creature was, Sinclair used Valkyrie's Gaze.

Name: Ike

Race: Wood Ogre

Level: 15

Health: 1300/1300

Description: Wood Ogres are a rare sight under the sun's rays, as they predominantly dwell in shadowed, secluded areas. Characterized by their limited intelligence, all Ogres tend to act on primal instincts and are prone to fits of uncontrollable rage. Their diet is indiscriminate, consisting of almost anything they can overpower and devour.

Wood Ogres are massive, with hulking frames and muscular builds that give them a menacing presence. Their skin is tough and leathery, often covered in scars and marks from their frequent skirmishes. Concomitant with their formidable size and strength, Wood Ogres are known for their sluggishness and lack of agility, relying more on brute force than finesse in combat.

Well, in that case, I think I'll just grab however many cubs there are and get the hell out of here. Although there's a part of me that really wants to go up and punch it square in the loincloth, that's gotta be worth a load of experience.

Fate had other plans. At the moment silence was most desirable, the cubs stuck their noses out of the hole and began keening over their dead parents. With an audible snap, the ogre's head jerked up and its eyes meandered around until affixing sharply on the small opening. This is going to hurt. Again.

Picking up two javelins from the previous fight, he threw them center mass as hard as possible. The weapons screamed across the field, one after the other, punching so deep into the ogre's flesh that the blade ceased to even be visible.

The ogre noticed the damage, at least; it brushed down its front, dislodging one javelin and snapping the shaft of the other, leaving the blade in situ. At least it's going to have some ongoing bleed damage. Right? Sinclair glanced over, making eye contact with the one wolf cub that was peering out of the hole. The eye contact lasted for the merest fraction of a second, but it felt like lightning to his nerves.

Everything suddenly feels so... right.

And then Sinclair died because he wasn't paying attention. Snap out of it, moron.

Sinclair took one step forward and the little cub leaned his head back and howled. The sound washed over Sinclair like a cleansing rain. He felt strong, he felt fast, and he felt... really fucking pissed off.

Whipping around, Sinclair hooked a foot under the nearest javelin and with a twist launched it off the ground, grabbing it mid-air. He spun in place, as if he were throwing a discus, and launched the javelin directly at the Ogre.

It might as well have missed, for all the damage it did.

He did it again... and this time, he felt like there should have been an announcer shouting 'critical hit' as the javelin sailed right through the ogre's pectoral muscle, revealing flesh and the edge of its ribs beneath.

Holy Hail Mary, Batman, that was awesome. Pity no-one's watching.

Name: Ike

Race: Wood Ogre

Level: 15

Health: 850/1300

Picking up the strongest looking spear he could find, Sinclair (the apparently suicidal, again) leapt towards the ogre. .

Eat spike, Ike!

System Message: Newton's Third Law

Description: An object in mid air can't swerve, duck, dodge, or generally do anything to avoid being hit.

Why is—Sinclair took a hit in the side and found himself flying into a tree.

Sailing through the air, Sinclair could feel blood building in his chest. I've broken a rib, if not punctured a lung. This is not going well. Glancing at his display, he could see that a single hit alone had reduced his health pool by 320 - a reflection of his lack of armor (or so much as a loincloth).

Get it together. Surely there's something I can do?

Indeed, he did have one skill that would work; a skill compatible with the bladed spear he was somehow still holding.

Cleave

Sinclair sprinted at the Ogre. He could feel the energy inside of him rolling down his arms and out into the shaft of the spear. Step by step he thundered toward the Ogre. The spear glowed brighter and brighter.

As the feet shrank to inches, the tip of the spear shone with a yellowy-orange glint so bright it wouldn't have looked out of place in the daytime sky; it became so bright that, as the spear came within the last inch of the ogre's skin, Sinclair had to close his eyes. He did not see what happened. He merely felt a tearing sensation carried through the haft. His ears rang with a snap that sounded like a gunshot.

And then he died.

*****

SInclair awoke. I thought I'd died.

A wet tongue was prodding his cheek, persistent but gentle. Startled, Sinclair jerked upright, only to immediately collapse back, pain lancing through his entire body.

I'm really not going to impress anyone with my intelligence today, am I?

Glancing down, he noted the scorched and splintered remnants of the spear shaft clutched in his hand. Cautiously, he cast his gaze towards where he believed the Ogre had been. The aftermath of his attack was evident: the colossal creature was almost cleaved in two. Sure, his health bar was blinking orange and his mana gauge had practically flatlined, but with consciousness regained, he felt the familiar sensation of his regenerative abilities kicking in. I need to remember this: when I'm unconscious, my regeneration either stops, or slows down so much it might as well have stopped.

Sinclair lay back against the ground to allow his pools to recharge. Soon, however, his reprieve was interrupted by an inquisitive presence. Turning his head, he was met with the curious gaze of a wolf cub.

Sinclair stretched out an arm, inviting the young creature to familiarize itself with his scent. Whoa, it's larger than I first thought. Measuring perhaps two feet at the shoulder, the cub confidently approached, nosing—and eventually licking—Sinclair's palm, before resting its weighty head in his hand. It seemed to recognize Sinclair as its savior and had approached with a kind of knowing trust.

Sinclair indulged in a gentle exploration of the cub's fur, delighting in the soft texture. For a vision, this is amazing. And to think I'm still lying down in that shaman's tent! Glancing up from his vantage point, he could see another cub, this one leaner, cautiously peeking out of the nearby cave.

The time to venture onward had come. Perhaps I can get some loot, illusion or not? I'm not missing out on loot... again. Rising gingerly to his feet, excruciatingly aware of each twinge from his tender ribs, he was joined by the larger dark-furred cub, their strides syncing harmoniously.

Upon approaching the other, more slender cub, he noted it was mostly white with some flecks of brown. Unlike the other—her sibling?—she regarded Sinclair with mild suspicion, standing her ground and neither advancing nor retreating. Crouching down, he beckoned the shy creature with a soothing tone. As it timidly stepped closer, it suddenly lunged, playfully knocking him off balance. Sinclair landed with a thud, pain flaring in his ribs. As he regained his posture, he caught the impish gleam in the cub's eyes, realizing the tentative behavior of the cub had just been an act.

Sinclair chuckled at the playful antics of the young wolf, calling her a "little rascal," as he tenderly scratched her behind the ear. He pushed himself upright, every movement causing a fresh wave of pain.

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Catching sight of the deceased adult wolves brought a sudden halt to the jollity. Their still forms lay undisturbed, forming a melancholy scene. Their cubs circled them, their snouts brushing against the cold fur, in an apparent attempt to seek warmth where none was still to be found. Sinclair approached the makeshift den, a slight depression formed by the uprooted base of a colossal tree that must have toppled during a fierce storm. The earth was redolent of the floor of an abattoir, damp, red and reeking with the metallic tang of blood.

Speaking to the cubs in hushed, comforting tones, Sinclair gently arranged the fallen wolves within the den. Although he lacked the proper tools, the remaining spear's sharp edge served as a makeshift spade. With deliberate care, he dragged damp, clay-rich soil over the entrance, forming a protective barrier. Putting a hand to his face, he found his cheeks damp, and was surprised to find that he had been crying.

With the somber task complete, Sinclair leaned heavily on the spear—now walking stick—and began his search for loot.

You have looted Goblins, x10

Silver Coin x4

Spear x1

Javelin x2

Walking over to the Ogre he came close to changing his mind about the loot, as the smell of perforated bowels forced itself up his nose. Hoping that the System would accept it as a looting action, he stretched out his arm and gently tapped the toe of the giant fallen foe.

You have looted Ogre, x1

Silver Coins x65

Fire Hardened Club (two-handed) x1 Loin Cloth x1

Then he noticed a strange, blinking notification in a color different from usual.

New Title: Vǫrðr's Valor (Rare)

Description: Bestowed upon those who have displayed extraordinary bravery, Vǫrðr's Valor is a title of honor that harks back to the guardians in Norse mythology, known as Vǫrðr, who watched over warriors. This prestigious title is reserved for those who have vanquished an adversary significantly more powerful than themselves, specifically one who stands ten or more levels higher.

In Norse culture, to be deemed courageous by one's peers was a high honor. Vǫrðr's Valor carries the weight of this tradition, marking the recipient as a warrior of exceptional courage, worthy of songs and sagas. It embodies the spirit of the Norse guardians, inspiring awe and respect across the realms.

Effects:

Earning this title grants a +5 increase to all stats.

Er... grim. With a pained grimace, Sinclair used the shards of the spear to push the loincloth away from the other items in front of him. Yeah, I might be naked, but I would sooner run swinging free through the center of Louisville than wear an oversized diaper that smells of Ogre taint.

Concluding his looting spree, Sinclair decided to retreat to safer grounds. With a pup flanking each side, Sinclair retraced his steps towards the original clearing. The trail was unmistakable, marked by broken branches and a straightforward path that bore the signs of his frenzied dash earlier. To his surprise, the hut and the old guide were in the clearing, despite its earlier emptiness. The elderly figure sat in tranquility outside the hut, gazing up at the vast tapestry of stars. Noticing Sinclair's approach, the guide's eyes twinkled with amusement, and he called out, "Freshen up, young wolf. Once you're presentable, we'll converse."

Sinclair headed straight for the nearest stream.

A short while later, and savoring his newfound cleanliness, Sinclair couldn't suppress a chuckle at the cubs' antics. Their youthful exuberance, set against the backdrop of the perilous journey they'd just survived, provided a brief and much-needed moment of levity.

His gaze returned to the old guide, who had been observing the scene with a hint of mirth in his weathered eyes. The guide's beard, snow white with small threads of black, bristled as he broke into a smile. The lines on his face deepened as he chortled softly, evidently sharing in Sinclair's amusement at the pups' water escapades.

"Glad to see their spirits haven't been dampened," the guide remarked, his voice a rich, earthy timbre that seemed to harmonize with the ambient sounds of the night. "The resilience of youth, whether it be man or beast, is a wonder in itself. But come, there are matters we must discuss."

Nodding in agreement, Sinclair approached the hut, the damp ground squelching beneath his bare feet. The two cubs, now seemingly finished with their water-filled adventure, trotted close behind, their wet fur glistening in the moonlight.

Sinclair stood and approached the Guide, taking a seat opposite the wizened figure. The Guide appeared lost in contemplation, gazing skyward, seemingly detached from the immediate surroundings. Impatience nipping at him, Sinclair broke the silence. "That was ... enlightening, to say the least. Was that the definitive test for my path? And if so, which path am I set upon?"

Lowering his eyes from the expansive night sky, the guide fixed Sinclair with a look that seemed as ancient as time itself. "Your journey," he began, his voice echoing like the rustle of wind through autumn leaves, "is a living, breathing entity, growing and evolving with every step you take, every challenge you face. This test was more than a mere trial; it was a reflection of your very soul. Stripped of weapons and armor, you chose bravery over fear, putting the safety of others before your own. Confronting the Ogre, a beast of immense power, you stood unshaken, demonstrating remarkable tenacity and bravery."

"After the trial, your actions spoke volumes of your respect for life – caring for the young and honoring those who had fallen. You've shown a heart that is both courageous and compassionate. Your unwavering moral compass, even in the gravest of situations, has laid the foundation of your path. The title Young Wolf is now etched upon your chest. I suggest you explore your markings when you have returned to your own world.

Sinclair's eyebrows slowly climbed up his forehead. "That is a lot to take in. Thank you for watching over my body."

"You are very welcome. Remember, Young Wolf is more than a name. It's a symbol of enduring strength and virtue, a mark that has not graced your world since the Sundering."

Sinclair looked at the guide, shivered slightly, and asked, "Could I have my clothes now, please?"

Grinning toothily, the guide looked Sinclair in the face "Look at your hand, boy. Your ring has been there the entire time. You could have put clothes and armor on at any time. The drink and mushrooms were to make you blind to it and open your mind so the unfiltered version of you could be expressed."

Snapping his vision down to the hand he wore his storage ring on, Sinclair saw it sitting there, plain as day. Pulling up his inventory he willed his clothes back on, happy to regain some privacy for his privates. "That... makes a certain kind of sense. So if all this was real, how do I leave? And what happens to the cubs?"

The Guide looked at the two cubs laid down on either side of Sinclair. "Little ones, what is your wish in this matter? Go or stay?" He cocked his head to the side a little and looked back and forth between the two momentarily before looking back up at Sinclair. "They wish to travel with you. They say they owe you a debt for saving them and for showing their parents respect. Do you accept this bond?"

Facing the two cubs, Sinclair regarded them solemnly. "I would be honored if you chose to come live with me. However, there are rules you must abide by. In my world, wolves aren't always welcomed warmly, due to the livestock that some people rear. I will ensure you have food, but hunting there is off the table. You can hunt when we travel elsewhere. There will also be times when I will have to leave you behind, and I need to trust that you will not stray."

After a few moments, both cubs clambered onto his lap, delivering affectionate licks. A chuckle escaped Sinclair's lips. "I'll consider that a yes." He ruffled the fur of the brown and black cub, declaring, "You, with your delightfully clumsy paws, shall be named 'Chewy'." His fingers then grazed the white- and brown-flecked cub as he proclaimed, "And you, my clever little lady, will be 'Leia', after the most formidable of Generals—and a real-life mischief-maker." Their cheerful yips indicated their approval.

Sinclair stood tall, turning to the Guide with gratitude. "It's time for me to return to my world. I appreciate the insights you've shared. May your Path always be enlightened."

The guide got to his feet and looked Sinclair in the face. Leaning forwards, he clasped the larger man's forearms and spoke with formality. "Your Path will be a long and hard one, as it always is for those who champion the causes of others. Keep your foundation firm, Young Wolf, and trust that, in the end, all shall be as it must be." In the silence that followed, a prompt finally appeared

You have completed the Challenge of Ansuz.

Do you wish to collect your reward and travel back? Yes/No

Selecting 'Yes', Sinclair was presented with a small chest, which he immediately popped into his storage container. Within the space of a blink, he ceased to be in one place and instead found himself back in front of the hut in the woods, accompanied by two delightfully adorable wolf cubs.

"First things first. Food for all of us, and then I need to check to see what I gained from that tutorial." Sinclair moved over to the firepit and started a new fire, ready to cook the last of his meat. The cubs were going to be exhausted and hungry he imagined so he made up every last bit which turned out to be several lbs. Laying the meat out and finding a small pot near the wall of the hut he filled it with water for the two cubs and sat with his back against the wall. He told them before opening the screens. "Keep watch, please. I am going to be looking at my status windows, so I may be slow to respond."

You have unlocked your Path

New Path: Journey of the Wolf

Description: The Journey of the Wolf is a path of loyalty, strength, and kinship. It acknowledges the profound truth that while a lone wolf is formidable, the pack is where its true strength lies. This path reflects your deep connection to those you consider family, no matter whether they are bound by blood or friendship. It emphasizes the importance of this unity in the face of life's trials.

Your Path holds the following tenets to be unshakeable:

Pack Bonding:

Your bond with your pack is paramount. The relationships you forge will shape your journey.

Guardianship:

By walking this path, you become a guardian of your pack. Your strength is their shield, their well-being is your guiding light.

Collective Growth

: Your pack's strength is your own strength. As you grow and evolve, so too will your pack. Your shared experiences will lead to collective empowerment.

Enduring Resilience:

This path requires resilience. You must be as steadfast as the ancient forests and as enduring as the mountains, ensuring that your pack remains unbroken.

New Skill: Pack Call (Duplicate)

Error

Skill already exists

Kernel panic

Duplicating Skill

Combining

Skill Rarity Upgraded

New Skill: Fenrir's Rally (Rare)

Description: You may channel the ancient might of Fenrir, the legendary wolf, by letting forth a powerful howl that reverberates across the land. Just as Fenrir was destined to break free during Ragnarok, so does this howl break through all barriers to unite allies. It is said that the wolves answering the call carry with them a fragment of Fenrir's fierce spirit, ready to face any challenge by your side.

Effects:

The howl resonates with a sound that is heard by all allies within a vast radius, compelling them to converge towards your location. No others can hear the call. The howl particularly resonates with wolves, drawing them to your side regardless of their relationship.

Allies responding to Fenrir's Rally feel a surge of courage and determination and are granted a temporary boost to morale.

Warning, this skill has a cooldown.

Due to its potent nature, this skill can only be used two times a day

New Item: Direwolf Gauntlets (Rare)

Description: These thin metal gauntlets have been worked into the shape of a wolf's paw. They are tipped with claws to protect your fingers.

Effects:

+3 Armor

+4 Agility

Grants an increased proficiency to unarmed combat

Your base stats have changed!

+5 Strength

+8 Agility

+7 Endurance

+3 Intelligence

+2 Willpower

Additional Rewards granted

Silver Coins x80

Confused by the duplicate skill, Sinclair scrolled back through his messages. It turned out that he'd earned the skill—the first time—when the cub had howled as his protector had charged the Ogre.

So, getting the same skill twice upgrades it, huh? I wonder if I can make use of that mechanic again?